Tis Better to Have Lost
by TurboNerd
Summary: Short and sad AR fic


Disclaimer: I don't own anything – blah blah blah blah blah blah.

'Tis Better to Have Lost

_Laura was laughing. Despite myself I ran to her, scooped her in my arms and kissed her like I'd never kissed a woman before. I leaned into the kiss, holding her firmly in my arms. For those few seconds I forgot that I was here to rescue everyone, and that everyone was staring as I kissed the former President of the Colonies. I didn't care._

_That moment of passion was all I got. Screams rose over the crowd and the Centurions appeared. Laura was crying as I was led away with the rest of the landing party. A human model, I can't remember which, held her struggling form back until she fell to her knees. Did she know about this trap? No. They had fooled us all. Led us to one place, so once and for all they could dominate all of us._

Laura was laughing. Her red hair shone in the sun. Her loose, gauzy-white outfit blew perfectly in the gentle wind making her look like a goddess. A beautiful, laughing goddess. Outstretched fingertips brushed lightly over the yellow flowers that surrounded her. Another breeze washed over her and her smile widened once more into full-faced laughter that caused her eyes to close. The white of her clothing caught the sunlight and glowed creating a soft aura around her. Every goddess should wish to look like this.

"Laura." Her name escapes my lips in a hoarse whisper. The sunlight fades. The light replaced by the dark. The metal collar around my neck is cold and cruel once more and I'm once more painfully aware of the presence of my restraints. The cuffs at my wrists and ankles seem to cut deeply with the slightest movement. The goddess is gone. The once fresh wound over my left eye is now crusted over. How long have I been out? The goddess is gone, replaced by the jailer.

"Laura _again_? Always with Laura. You're starting to get a little predictable Admiral. And a little boring." Sharon's words are unfeeling, like she's reading the results of some experiment.

But isn't that what I am? I'm their experiment – they want to see just what gets to me. I can't give them Laura. I put on my hardest face and make my usual mistake of giving her a defiant glare. The pole is still connected to my collar – they must've let me stay passed out last time – I feel it jerk and I'm flung violently to my knees. I spit on her shoes. Another jerk and my face connects with the floor and pain sears up my jaw. I knew it was coming, it always does – but I still fight back. I continue to defy her because I know how much it pisses her and the others off to know they haven't broken me. She spent all those months behind the glass and metal of her cell – the cell that is now mine – she thought I was a weak old man. She thought she'd figured out how to get to me. I was once her brother in arms – it hurt me to hold her captive – now I'm her prisoner, but she shows me none of the mercy I showed her. She thought if she stripped me of my uniform – my source of pride and honor, something that defined most of my adult life – she'd take away some of my strength. But here I am, lying face-first in Sharon's cell, in my shorts and undershirts – but I am still defiant. I feel the hook on my collar go taunt again and I'm yanked back into a seated position, leaned back on my heels against the small cot. I remember in the beginning they tried the sexual approach - "You are a man after all" They'd say. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of even an involuntary response and that made them angry. I think they beat me past consciousness because that's when Laura came. Eventually that particular form of torment no longer gave them pleasure so they got what they wanted by simply causing me pain. Soon Laura wasn't just a dream, she was there – brushing the blood from my lips and wiping away the tears that I let secretly fall. I knew things were bad when I found myself in the field of flowers. I'm loosing it – I know that. Sharon yanks the collar hard opening a fresh wound on my neck before unhooking the pole and leaving in an angry huff. I'm only alive because I'm an outlet for my former prisoner's rage – I hope I'm not as amusing anymore. I have my peace for now. I lean my head back and my fragile mind finds its way back to the field of flowers. My head is in Laura's lap and she's laughing lightly. But Laura is dead with the rest of humanity – I know that too. Maybe I've finally lost my usefulness and my captors will kill me and I won't have to leave this field again. The field where Laura is always laughing.


End file.
